


Muggle Cooking

by femmenerd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-03
Updated: 2010-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenerd/pseuds/femmenerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it seems like <i>everything</i> about Hermione’s childhood was different from Ron’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muggle Cooking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beckaandzac (becka)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/becka/gifts).



> Originally posted on LJ [here.](http://femmenerd.livejournal.com/360640.html#cutid1)

Sometimes it seems like _everything_ about Hermione’s childhood was different from Ron’s. And Christmas is all about childhood, and tradition. It’s also about the future, or it is when you bring your bloke home with you to sleep in the spare bedroom and fret over appropriate gifts for your Muggle parents and when he’ll get to see you naked again. She’s more aware of it than he is—how very different their lives were before Hogwarts. But that’s to be expected, considering that they have the same life together now. 

Christmas is also all about mounds of food and endless cooking, a notion certainly not foreign to Ron, who was raised by Mrs. Weasley after all. However, in the Granger househould, it is Mr. Granger and Hermione who make Christmas pudding together, plus all the other courses and tidbits as well. Mrs. Granger does not, can not, will not cook. This is how it always has been, Christmas or no. She decorates, and vacuums up errant pine needles from beneath the tree (giving Ron a fright), and is thoroughly appreciative of all the various holiday cookies and pasties produced by her loving husband and daughter. But she does not cook. 

“Is this how it is with all Muggle families?” Ron whispers to Hermione once her dad’s gone off to the grocery for more butter and sugar (always more butter and sugar). 

“What?” Hermione looks up from her dough, distracted, with flour on her nose and most likely dusting frizzles of her hair as well—unless she’s going prematurely grey. 

“Do the men do all the cooking?” He looks nervous. 

A flash of understanding crosses Hermione’s features, then one of annoyance, followed quickly by amusement. “No, of course not,” she points out logically, “I’ve done my fair share, haven’t I? And I’m a girl—I mean, woman.” To punctuate, she takes out a rolling pin from a drawer and pounds it down onto a lump of sugar-cookies-to-be.

“Oh,” Ron says, staring at her bemusedly.

“You see, Ronald,” Hermione continues, “we _are_ living in the 21st century. It isn’t a woman’s _obligation_ to cook. But she can if she likes—if she _chooses_ to do so.”

“My mum certainly seems to like it,” Ron notes. “Or at least, I always assumed she did,” he adds quickly, then pauses briefly before mumbling, “Actually, I’d never really given the matter much thought.” 

Ron waits for a scolding that surprisingly doesn’t come. 

Hermione just says, “well, most of us don’t question the order of things when we’re children. Sort of how it didn’t occur to me that magic could be real, but I believed in Santa Claus.”

“Er, Hermione, Santa Claus _is_ real. Quite the jolly wizard, him. Doesn’t usually deliver to Muggle families though, just every once in awhile. Think it’s against protocol ‘bout doing magic around Muggles, but the Ministry looks the other way, since it’s Christmas and all.” 

“Oh!” Hermione peeps, eyes wide. “Of course!” Then she averts her gaze to admire the two full trays of stars and snowmen she’s cut out and decorated as they’ve been talking.

Ron swipes a bit of excess dough from the counter and pops it into his mouth. “This is delicious, Hermione!” he exclaims. 

She beams, and lightly swats his thieving fingers. “Well, you should taste it once it’s been baked.”

“So,” Ron inquires slowly while Hermione opens and shuts the oven door, “you like cooking then?”

“Very much.” She looks up at him with affection. “I can teach you, if you’d like.”

“Sure.” Ron nods. “But we can use magic, right? Because this is taking forever, and…”

“And my parents are out and you’d like to sneak in some snogging under the mistletoe?”

“Exactly. Or on the couch. That’d work too.”

Hermione gets up on her tiptoes and put her lips to his, right then and there, until Ron’s blushing pink and thoroughly kissed. Then she wraps her arms about his middle and puts her cheek to his sweatered chest, concluding, “Of course we’ll use magic, but here, ‘cause it’s Christmas, we’ll do it my dad’s way.”

"The cooking, you mean."

"Yes, of course, the cooking!"


End file.
